What Goes Around, Comes Around
by Isotrope
Summary: Hidden in an abandoned chemical plant in Shanghai, a haggard group of survivors steals junk and refuse from the human insects to survive. What would the RotF raid look like through Decepticon eyes? Featuring Demolisher, Sideways and a host of OCs.
1. Chapter 1: A Shadow in Shanghai

**_Welcome to What Goes Around, Comes Around. Hope you enjoy your stay - if not, perhaps the Decepticons can arrange something more comfortable for you..._**

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_Shanghai, China – Industrial District_

_1948 Hours Local Time_

Dusk had begun to fall over the grimy warehouses and factories, which were nearly done shutting down for the day. This was not an area of the city that suggested modernity; the buildings here were rusted brown, either abandoned to an entropy of weeds and flaking paint or home to local industries. Shanghai certainly had modern manufacturing plants, but all that resided here were vague shadows of past glory.

One such shadow moved behind a building. Too tall to be human, but too fluid to be a lifeless machine, this shadow's caster moved with a fluid, bipedal gait compromising the two. A trickle of oil and coolant followed it, accompanied by the dragging of feet.

Whatever it was, it was wounded.

The tall, mechanical shadow lurched into the massive and hollow shell of a rusted refinery, the largest building to be found for several blocks. Its eyes burned a smoldering red, two embers in a dying furnace, and it began to unload a large compartment on its back, looking for all the world like a dulled-silver backpack.

"What has our courier brought us?" inquired a deep, rumbling voice. A larger pair of orange eyes, set in a steamshovel head on a gantry of a neck, had extended over the intruder.

The owner of the shadow practically jumped out of his metal skin, dropping two large barrels of oil to the floor.

"Zagh! Demolisher, I _told_ you not to surprise me like that!"

The steamshovel head chuckled to itself, a sound not unlike the burble of a diesel engine.

"You're too nervous for your own good, Sideways. Come now – show us what you managed to procure."

The shadow's owner – Sideways – stepped backwards into a patch of light, revealing himself as a twenty-foot tall mechanical man trimmed in silver. His broad shoulders sagged, but not under the weight of his cargo. More than a few coolant and hydraulic lines had been punctured, and bilateral symmetry had been compromised by armor plates cracked, scorched or outright missing. The damage wasn't physically extensive, but the silver robot's body language told everything: he was rattled.

"It would be nice if one of the others could go out for a run some time. Seriously –"

"Sideways."

"- it was horrendous. There was this truck, this stupid truck, painted pink with a glowing thing on the roof and tinkly music playing – "

"Sideways."

"- and it split down the middle and turned into a couple of Autobots – idiotic ones, but were they rogue or are they going to lead them onto us – "

"_SIDEWAYS,"_ Demolisher rumbled. Sideways looked up from the wound he'd been showcasing.

"Fine – I'll can it. Here's what I found."

A third oil barrel arrived, along with two decrepit motorcycles and the frontal innards of an older, Japanese sports car. Soon the pile had grown to include half a crate of motor oil, all sealed up in tiny little plastic jugs nearly too small for the robot's claws to open. Various other bits of trash collected upon the heap: computer motherboards, broken devices such as cell phones and cameras, old monitors and cathode-ray tubes.

Demolisher's head hovered, sauropod-like, above the trash heap, regarding it with equal parts approval and resignation.

"To think," he rumbled, "that proud Decepticons have fallen so far, to resort to scavenging not our own waste, but that of the insects. Such is the way of things, I suppose."

"Decepticons, come see what brave Sideways has brought you."

A low clatter arose from the myriad shadows within the building, and slowly a half dozen or so shapes began to slink towards the light. A motorcycle, devoid of a rider, crept forwards before slits ran down its plastic fairing and its internal structure twisted itself into a crude parody of a human form, lopsided with wheels for feet.

Joining the motorcycle was a rusted forklift, unfolding into a squat robot with lifters for shoulders, while a tiny robot formed from a self-propelled lawnmower sorted through the rubbish looking for a new blade. A military-beige robot slightly larger than Sideways sat in a corner, rocking its head back and forth.

A dark green robot, considerably slenderer than Sideways but nearly as tall, pushed itself out of a slouch against the wall and came to investigate the trash heap. It sidled up next to the silver courier, its hands folded across a narrow chest.

"Dibs on the motor oil?" it asked. Its voice was reedy, electronic, and unmistakably feminine.

Sideways shrugged. "I don't need any of this stuff, besides some new armor. Demolisher said last time was gonna be my last run for a while, but now this –"

"Sideways," rumbled Demolisher, and everyone jumped. The lawnmower robot almost sliced its hand off.

"It's been getting entirely too dangerous out there for Rotary, and you know that. You know I didn't want to risk her on this, considering her lack of experience."

Sideways and Rotary wheeled on the big 'bot.

"Inexperienced?" she spluttered. "Just because I haven't been on many missions –"

Sideways cut in. "- doesn't mean I can't lend her my suppressor for a couple runs. Honestly, she could make a run with Kickstand over there –"

The lopsided motorcycle looked up with a sheepish grin, face covered in iron filings.

The slender green robot resumed. "I mean, I haven't seen any real combat yet. What kind of Decepticon am I if I haven't blown anything up yet?"

"Enough!" rumbled Demolisher, sending a vibration through the concrete floor. "Rotary, you're staying put and that is final. Go claim your oil and I will think about allowing you to raid the insects, but it will not be soon. I will not allow any of you to get yourselves slagged upon my watch."

"I'm _partly_ slagged," grumbled Sideways.

Rotary gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "Come on. There have to have been some fun bits, right?"

"Define _fun_."

"Tearing through the streets of this insect colony at high speed, taking corners, the screech of the tires…"

"Right, and getting attacked by a couple of bluescreens who talked like they were mainlining the worst of that noise the humans call 'music.'"

Sideways turned his head from Demolisher's orange gaze, keeping his voice low. "Make no mistake, Rotary – I think those robots that attacked me were registered Autobots, not just rogue Cybertronians."

Rotary's blue eyes flicked to the pile of trash, and the young and weak Decepticons sorting through it. The lawnmower had fallen to squabbling with a human game console for some bit of trash, until the forklift moved in to break them apart. From Kickstand rooting around looking for more ridiculous treasure to the big military-looking robot rocking his head back and forth in the corner, this was the closest thing to a family these Decepticons would likely have.

The blue eyes shifted back to meet Sideways' red ones. "Meaning what?"

Sideways gestured to their little mob. "Meaning unless I'm wrong – and for once, I hope to slag I am – the Autobots are going to find us, and this little family is going to be broken up."

"And it's going to happen soon."

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**Author's Note: **I don't own Transformers, and I only claim my OCs as mine. All others are the registered property of Hasbro, General Motors, Audi, and makers of fine death unicycles everywhere. That said, hope you enjoyed it. Leave a review and I'll see you next time!


	2. Chapter 2: The Energon Still

**Chapter 2: The Energon Still**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Transformers. Except for the little G1 Bumblebee sitting above my computer. I own that particular guy, at least.

That night, as they had done for weeks now, the group clustered around the Energon still.

It was their lifeblood; it was the reason for their raids and their reason for functioning. Demolisher had built it, vicariously, through his innate knowledge of engineering - _"I am a Constructicon, after all," _he'd said, "_even if this building is too small for me." _The actual assembly had been done by Sideways and Rotary, with Kickstand occasionally coming in to 'supervise' – i.e. attempt to steal parts. The finished product wasn't pretty, resembling a haphazard array of magnets, wiring and plumbing hooked into the nearest energy source.

"Ready?" Sideways asked, holding two industrial-strength plugs.

Rotary carried the last oil drum into position as the game console scurried out of her way. "Explain to me again, Demolisher, why we can't just plug this thing into the power lines out there."

The great steamshovel head, inset with orange eyes, swung back through the open window, silhouetted against the night. The smog of Shanghai was so great that only the light of Venus made it through its choked skyline. "Little ones," he replied, "the still is an accelerator and converts energy-rich matter into Energon. It's engineering. You must make tradeoffs, as well you all know. Were you to draw energy from these crude electrical lines, you would need a catalyst."

Sideways drummed his metal fingers on his hip. "Ready?"

Rotary ignored him. _Sometimes, I envy the Constructicons. It would be nice if I could grasp these principles._ "Catalyst?"

Demolisher continued undaunted. "Energon exists in a phase between matter and between pure energy – and in order to acquire it from energy, such as how the human insects ridiculously shuffle some electrons back and forth, you would need a catalyst to channel the proto-energon state. Any solid matter will do, but metal works most efficiently. That said, the catalyst then becomes waste, charged with Energon radiation, something not even our suppressors could hide from the Autobots. Would you prefer they come knocking on our door enquiring about our little camp?"

The green-and-white game console was chewing on a wire. Rotary discouraged him with her foot. "Fair enough. Sideways, you ready? What's taking so long?"

Sideways shot her a death glare.

As the plugs were connected, a vacuum pump fired up, draining the oil out of the barrels and into the reaction chamber. Blue light began seeping out, evidence that the containment field was active. A few of the gauges, sprouting from the salvaged furnace at the heart of the machine, began to rattle.

"Steady, now," rumbled Demolisher. "Ease off on the pressure."

Sideways took the reaction speed down and the coolant lines responded, settling back to normal.

The reaction began to change, converting the chemical energy of the oil in the barrels into a different kind of matter/energy entirely, molecular bonds exploited, reshaped and twisted, hovering incomprehensibly (for Rotary, at least) between states of being. The blue glow of the fields intensified, grew violet, then white.

Sideways watched the dial. "Five seconds, Rotary – four, three, two, one."

"Right." Rotary shut down her end of the machine and the light faded in all parts of the machine except for the last barrel, which glowed a faint blue.

Rotary peered in. In the bottom of the barrel, approximately five or so gallons of thick, blue sludge pulsed and glowed. This was crude Energon, far from properly refined. Small chunks of it had attempted to coalesce into malformed cubes – these were higher concentrations of energy, evidence of an incomplete reaction. It didn't entirely matter, however, because this was a matter of survival, and to keep fueled, the little gang of Decepticons would have to make do.

_Ugh,_ thought the thin green robot. _Better than usual, at least. We're getting better at refining Energon._

Demolisher nodded his approval. "And that is Constructicon engineering for you. If it won't work, make it work."

Sideways eyed the barrel. "Good thing we didn't have to 'make it work' this time, then."

They divided up the Energon. Demolisher, due to his size and mass, required half of it simply to function. The smaller 'bots, such as the console and the lawnmower, received a tiny cube apiece, which would fuel them for a few days, perhaps a week. Kickstand split a slightly larger share with the forklift, with a correspondingly larger share going to the big desert-tan military robot who slumped in the corner.

"Hey, big guy," said Rotary, proffering a share of the results on a trash can lid. Back at the still, the rest of the robots were refueling, and Sideways was explaining his latest ache or pain to Kickstand and Demolisher, neither of which were paying much attention.

The big robot didn't look up. He was larger than Sideways, approximately the size required to transform into a standard military vehicle, such as a medium tank or an armored personnel carrier. That said, "big robot" was certainly relative, as he would barely come up to the cab on truly massive Demolisher.

"You want your Energon, mate?" she asked, once again offering the glowing mess.

The big robot held his head in his hands, slowly rocking back and forth on a period of several seconds.

Rotary deliberated for a few seconds. Should she take the Energon for herself? After all, her engine wasn't terribly fuel efficient; surely this wreck of a robot wasn't expending as much energy sitting there in the corner as she was. It would be better used in a body that was actually being helpful, after all…

Through some conspiracy of sympathy, solidarity or plain decency, though, Rotary set the trash can lid down in front of him and went back to Sideways.

"What's his malfunction?"

"Him?" said the silver 'bot. "He's been here for a couple months, a bit longer than yourself. I found him on the outskirts of town, kicking off Energon radiation like nobody's business. Autobot patrol would have ganked him for sure if we hadn't brought him back here."

Rotary's blue eyes flicked back to the big robot, still hunched in the corner. "Wonder how he got here."

Sideways blinked and finished part of his Energon, popping a small cube already beginning to melt like a soft caramel into his spark chamber. "No idea. You've seen him; he doesn't talk much, just a few grunts every now and then. Never got his name, nor his agenda. I imagine he got into a big fight with the Autobots, screwed up his processors."

Sideways' gaze flicked to the ground. "That's why I'm just a courier. I'm not built for heavy combat, especially not against some of the nastier Autobots out there. You'd do well do avoid them, Rotary."

She cocked a metallic eyebrow at this. "Why, I think I'd do rather well. They don't seem too tough to me."

Sideways scoffed. "Rotary, you wouldn't last a microsecond against them."

Rotary's blue eyes flared. "What?! How would you know, anyway? Demolisher hardly lets me out of this bloody building. He's had me tinkering with the still all day."

"That's exactly what I mean. You haven't seen combat. Be glad of it."

He toyed with a bit of the Energon sludge. "Also, wipe that look off your face, Rotary. I know what you feel like."

Rotary blinked. "How so?"

"Because I've been there. I was like you, you know. I wanted to see it all – the humans have a term for it, you know. They call it 'seeing the elephant.'"

"What's an elephant?"

"Precisely."

Rotary walleyed him. _"Explain."_

"It's a big organic beast, something like a backhoe. Big long nose on the front that shovels dirt around."

"Huh. What does this have to do with the Autobots?"

"I'm getting to that," said Sideways. "Soldiers going off to war for the first time often did so to 'see the elephant;' that is, to experience the great beast that is battle and carnage for themselves. Not out of any lust for battle – not like Demolisher, thank the fates he's here – but to sate their own curiosity."

"So it's a metaphor, then. You're arguing that I'd get trampled."

"I'm arguing that you'd run out of Energon, fall, and then get trampled. Or shot. Exploded. Sliced in two while in vehicle mode. Any number of horrific things."

Rotary wheeled on him. "I take offense to that first one. I'm entirely combat capable – my power system isn't _that_ bad. It's not crippling."

"Why do you think Demolisher doesn't send you out? He's afraid you'll overexert yourself, that's why. Rotary, you're a lightweight Cybertronian that burns up as much Energon as I do. I saw you go through two jugs of motor oil once I got back. How can you possibly be that inefficient?" he asked, tilting the trashcan lid that served as a makeshift plate. The raw, glowing gloop oozed from one side to the other, collecting in a lumpy blue puddle on one side.

Rotary's eyes flicked down. "It's not as crippling as you make it out to be, but yes, it is a problem."

"Why, then?"

"It's a long story."

"All aural sensors."

Rotary gave a mechanical sigh. "Fine, then."

_**Underground Bunker**_

_**Border Zone, Novara**_

_**Fifth Moon of Gas Giant Atalkos**_

**_Approx. 1 Century Before Present-Day_**

"_Cybertronians of the far-flung worlds, your race has been thrown into chaos. For too long we have battled, and for too long needles lives have been lost, and needless Energon wasted. The hopes and dreams of Cybertronians everywhere have been crushed thanks to this needless war, and we now come to you seeking help."_

_The line of Cybertronians looked at each other. None of them were combat material, being mostly Energon farmers, ore gatherers, plant operators. A few had engineering experience, but that was it._

"_You may be the downtrodden, the poor and the unjustly accused. You may be simple Energon farmers, but worry not, for we have need of you. With us, you will be appreciated, you will be home."_

_A slender green robot watched the screen with hopeful blue eyes. A scientist-type was addressing them, a bulky fellow full of wings and engines._

"_And with us, you will be family. For together, we are strong, and we are one. We are Decepticons!"_

_A cheer went up. "We are Decepticons!"_

**Author's Note: **Hope you're liking it so far! Next time, we explore some of Rotary's past, possibly how she arrived in Shanghai and perhaps resolving the mystery of her fuel problems_. _See you then!_  
_


	3. Chapter 3: Rotary's Past

**Tholin Plains, Novara**

**Fifth Moon of Gas Giant Atalkos**

**Approx. 1 Century Before Present-Day**

"Run, Decepticons!"

Two dozen pair of legs took off at a moderate canter, settling themselves in for an endurance run. Distance was both mental and physical, balancing the constant strain on the mind with the flagging energy of the body.

"Run like you _mean it_, you slag heaps! _GO!"_

_BLAM._

A huge plume of tholin mud erupted, blossoming into a huge fireball of trapped methane that clawed at the stars above.

The canter instantly became a stampede. Two dozen pairs of massive, metal feet pounded the dirt into submission, thundering at full tilt over the tholin plains, as all the while, the booming voice of Drill Sergeant Auger rang in their heads.

"Go, go, go!" came his voice, punctuating every few words with another explosion at their heels. "Do you think the Autobots will show you any mercy? Prime is at your backs – behind you, Ironhide is waiting – in the shadows, Sideswipe lurks. You have to be _TOUGH!"_

Field exercises had been brutal, but such is the way of things in the military. Rapt attention to detail was emphasized – every whir of a gear, every slip of a clutch, every misfire would have Auger in their face, chewing them out full tilt.

That said, the past week had been child's play next to this. Fifty in, the group still thundered along at a sprinting pace, despite the fact that one of their number was starting to flag.

A small, slender green robot, very much still in the thick of the pack, was doing particularly poorly. Her blue eyes flickered and she pumped her arms, trying to add momentum to a failing body.

"Come on. Come _ON,_" she ordered herself. She was just as good as the rest of these 'bots; she'd show them!

Of course, some were doing better than the rest. A tall, gunmetal-gray robot running ahead of the pack looked back, eyes darting back and forth. Convinced of something or other, he began to hunch over, the wheels over his shoulders rotating down to join the two pair embedded in his legs. Servos whirred as he began to transform into a configuration more suited to off road use. He gave a sigh of relief, glad to be off his feet –

A rocket, riding a trail of white smoke, streaked over the heads of the running Decepticons and straight into the ground behind the lead robot.

**_BLAM._**

The trapped methane burst upwards in a tremendous mushroom of flame and dirt, out of which they saw the gray robot sailing, singed and trailing smoke, until he crashed unceremoniously up ahead.

_"I **said** no vehicle forms! Over-reliance on your alt modes will get you killed, rookies!"_

"I gotcha, pal." A big Constructicon, lumbering on two blocky feet, swung out a junkyard's electromagnet crane and picked up the smoking robot from their path. Two others supported him as another fireball blossomed behind the pack. "Jes' don't try to hot shot it while Auger's around."

In the midst of the herd of charging robots, something odd was happening with the slender green one.

"Damnable - - weak - - spark - -" she gasped, her processors starved for power. Her limbs felt like they were made of lead, and static crept into the edges of her vision.

A burly robot, plowing along next to her, looked down.

"You all right, there?"

Her footsteps were ringing in her ears now, just her own, every footfall a new shock of sound echoing dully through her metal frame.

"I – I can't – my spark - "

The big robot tapped the side of his metal skull. "It's all mental. You just gotta think you can. Go on."

The little green robot grit her teeth, so to speak, as the pack started barging its way up a hill.

_I think I can._

Her core energy readings begged to differ, though…

_NO! No, slag you, you awful, weak spark, I can do this. I think I can. I think I can._

The static was beginning to obscure her vision quite badly.

"Come on," the big robot was saying. "This kind of stuff builds character. Me and my brother ran all the time back on the Energon farm – "

_I think I can._

The fuzzing of static was overpowering. She would not let it take her, though. If her spark wouldn't work, she'd make it work, slag its time!

**_I think_ _I _– **

Her engine couldn't. With an atonal squawk of protest cut short like a stereo being tortured to death, her balance and legs went out simultaneously. Her foot sank into the soft mud as she crashed and tumbled, energy readings cascading down one after another. The last thing she could hear was Drill Sergeant Auger's voice ringing in her head.

A tinny, shrill voice piped up from somewhere weirdly close.

"Feeling better, now, yes?"

_Ugh._ She tilted her head to the side. Where was she? Lots of computer monitors, lots of diagnostic equipment. It all looked old – but it looked solidly built. Like it was military grade a generation or two ago.

"Wh – what's going on?"

"Oh, your fellows brought you in. You were…off line."

_Where am I?_ she thought.

"You haff lied to us, you know?"

She blinked. "Who – what?"

"Down here. Look down – _nein_, your _ossah _down! How can you be zho inept?"

She looked down, her head still spinning. She was on an operating table, immobilized by magnetic clamps. That's when she saw the owner of the bizarre accent: a tiny robot no larger than her own head, resembling nothing so much as an ambulatory pair of spectacles attached to a myriad of claws and surgical tools.

"You may call me ze Doctor."

"Hi, Doctor. What am I doing here?"

"Hmph," it said, skittering around her spark chamber, which was exposed and crackling weakly. "You are here because –"

At this, it skittered alarmingly close to her face, thrusting its huge staring eyes into hers.

_"BECAUSE YOU ARE EIN PATHETIC LIAR_, zat is why!"

The Doctor crawled onto the table, muttering things about power flows and core readings to itself before spontaneously wheeling on her once more. Her eyes followed the little thing around. For such a tiny machine, it was absolutely packed with diagnostic and repair equipment.

"You haff a weak spark. Very, very weak. I am surprised hyu can even walk vith a spark like yours."

A quick wave of shame washed over her.

_But – how did they know – oh, slag, the Doctor knows – my secret is out -_

She'd started out fine, as a small protoform, enjoying the speed and energy of youth, but as she grew, her spark had not. Ever since, she'd been unable to exert herself like her fellows, often making up excuses getting out of work, rather than admitting she simply couldn't do it. Running was a tiring activity, and the few times she had tried to transform, she stopped halfway through, deathly afraid that she'd be trapped in vehicle form without a way to fend for herself. The embarrassment and shame were trapped within her, coupled with her memory of the good days before this crippling condition, burned with energy far more powerful than her meager and tiny spark.

"I know I'm a defect."

"I _know_ you know," shrilled the Doctor. "Und you declined to tell us. Why?"

She looked away. _Because I want to be worthwhile, that's why_.

"I'm tired of being tired. I've been like this…well, since always, really. When I was a protoform – "

The Doctor waved dismissively. "I know, I know all about zis," it cried. "It is condition, it is. _Defect_, now zat is more like it. Certain protoforms – zey simply do not develop sparks capable of much power. Tiny – barely functioning. Unfit for labor, unfit for ze military. Very, very rare, this condition is. Only one in ein million Cybertronians, if zat."

"You know," it said, crawling alongside her head, "under ze Autobots, your kind is sometimes…recycled."

A chill went up her spine. "Recycled?"

"Yes, off _course_. Vot good is ein Cybertronian mit-out physical capabilities?"

"I can run – I showed you all I could run, though – "

"How far? Fifty? Sixty? Zhen hyu shut down?"

Her eyes flicked down.

"Ze Autobots believe in ze spark as a soul. Your essence. What you are. You know a common compliment among zem?"

"What?"

The Doctor drew himself up to its full if diminutive height, attempting to look for all the world like a bespectacled little Autobot leader. "you may be small, but you have a big spark," it said, in a mock-grandiose tone. "Or perhaps zis one – 'Your spark burns brightly, young von.'"

A tiny, surgical claw pointed at her. "Und yours – yours does **_not_**. Vot good are you, then, hmm? Communications? Rusting in ein office somewhere?"

_The spark is that important to them? Really?_

The thought of being trapped in menial duty or, worse, being persecuted by the Autobots, sent a jolt up her spine. "Would they really?"

"Vhy not? After all, you have such a very, very small soul to them. Like the soul of a turbofox, hunted for sport."

The green robot shuddered. _But what sport would there be in hunting me?_

"You haven't…have you told anyone yet?"

"Off course not," the Doctor said. "Zere is always hope, you know?"

_Hope?_

"What do you mean, hope? I can't just get a new spark, after all, can I?"

The Doctor was looking very pointedly into her eyes. It said nothing, simply adjusting the lenses over its enormous eyes.

"….can I?"

The Doctor grabbed a piece of cloth and polished its lenses.

"No. You cannot. But vee haff vays, then – of making it work. Haff you ever heard the Constructicon motto?"

"N-no."

"If it doesn't work, **_make it_**_ **work**."_

It fixed her with a very, _very_ interested look. _" _Shall ve get started?"

**Author's Note**: Hope you enjoyed this look into one of my character's backstories. What could possibly come of this? Nothing good, from the looks of it. Leave a review and I'll see you next time!


	4. Chapter 4: Transformation

**Chapter Four: Transformation**

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**Disclaimer**: I still don't own Transformers, Hasbro, or Michael Bay.

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**Decepticon Field Laboratories**

**Tholin Plains, Novara**

**Fifth Moon of Gas Giant Atalkos**

**Approx. 1 Century Before Present-Day**

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She jerked forward, screaming_._

This was a scream unlike most. Cybertronians, like other vocally and emotionally capable beings, can scream for any number of reasons – pain, rage, joy, pleasure, excitement, in battle, or for a thousand and one others.

This was different, for while it was a scream of pain, it was also a release of years of frustration, of her loathing for her spark, for every time her energy gave out on her and sent her into the dust, and for every time she had to make excuses to avoid placing a heavy demand on her power systems. This was also a scream of terror, of uncertainty.

But it was the transformative nature of the scream that interested the Doctor. It was a rising, stygian wail, the sound of a thousand electronic speakers set at high frequency and completely out of tune, their disharmony wobbling along the un-note like it would shatter at any second. It vibrated in the metal plates and the enormous eyes of the Doctor, watching her readings intently.

For the Doctor, it was a scream of _evolution_.

Shivering, the slender green robot slumped back to the operating table. Had she a pair of lungs, they would have been hammering shallowly. Had she organic eyes, tears would have been streaming down the sides of her face. This was a pain the likes of which she had never experienced, like her whole chest was being torn apart. Her spark, normally a crackling if faint white flame, was thrashing against the confines of its chamber like a wild animal, an amorphous blob of energy and panic.

_Blot it out – please – please blot out the pain_, she told herself. _Take your brain away._

"Very interesting," came the voice from the monitor.

The Doctor wheeled on the source. "Hyu see, now? It is progressing far better zhen I had hoped."

"Yes, quite."

The figure on the monitor leaned in. He was a broad-shouldered fellow with an unusually high-pitched electronic voice, one of the Decepticon elite cadre by the looks of him. Covered in engines and control surfaces, he clearly favored flight. Her half-lucid mind recognized him as the one drumming up Decepticon support some months ago.

His red optics scanned the green robot on the operating table. Her thin armor hung suspended from racks behind the table, exposing a mess of wires and gears from disassembled mechanicals. Hundreds of conduits of varying dimensions radiated from the chamber at its core, snaking into every piece of equipment and machinery in the laboratory. Her spark danced like an enraged flame.

The Doctor skittered along the table, picking through instruments. "Hyu see? Very good!" He selected a thin scalpel with an energy blade, good for working on delicate mechanical equipment.

"Yes, again," the scientist replied. "In fact, am I correct in asking that this is, so far, the most successful such procedure in our medical books?"

The Doctor waved him off. "Not entirely impossible, zir – mit ze rarity of spark deformities, it's surprising vee see any of them at all. Perhaps there are two, three osser recorded experiments such as zis vun?"

"A valid point," came the reply. "This one is the best of the lot, assuming she survives. What improvements have you made on the procedure?"

The Doctor didn't look up from making a slight incision in one of the containment coils. As if in response, the thrashing spark leaned off-center, a top with a wobbling orbit.

"I haff been poring over your old notes, hyu know, und hyu are quite interested in the nature of the spark."

It looked up, quite pointedly fixing its gaze on the larger robot. "Very, very interested."

"Of course," his colleague replied. "I find its study fascinating. The spark is not only powerful, but fragile all the same, able to be snuffed with the barest of touch. There are secrets to it, I believe, secrets valuable for those of us interested in taking…precautionary measures."

He shifted his weight, eyes still boring into the complexities of the Doctor's equipment. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. What guarantee do I have that this one won't just die like the others?"

The Doctor looked up, a glint in its eye. "An old theory off your own design."

The robot produced two pieces of metal, shaped like convex triangles. Held in the palm of its claw, they gently counter-rotated in midair and threw dull lines of light from their curving planes.

On the monitor, the other scientist leaned in.

"Rotary units? Those were flawed by design – the theory behind them is unsound. You can't just infuse a spark with more power than it can handle and drop the rotors in – it will break the spark chamber and snuff its life."

"In fact," he continued, "the whole concept reeked of Megatron. It was all about power, without the thought of consequences – the same demon that plagues most Decepticon thought. Young and brash, was she?"

At this, the Doctor chuckled. "Off course, zir – but mit ze proper techniques – ze proper application of power und cooling, it is possible for ze rotary core to produce considerable power from a tiny size, as tiny as ze underdeveloped core on ze little girl here…"

"But she will burn through Energon like a Cybertronian twice her size. You can't get something for nothing."

"Zat is ze nature of engineering, as well you know."

"If you can stabilize the core properly with the rotary units, she could be a valuable soldier in our ranks."

"_Ja_. Assuming she survives."

On the other side of the monitor, the scientist tapped his chin. "I'll expect to see your research notes after this is through. Continue."

The Doctor shot him a chrome smile before turning back to his experiment.

"I thought hyu would never ask, Lord Starscream."

--

--

**Testing Range**

**Tholin Plains, Novara**

**Fifth Moon of Gas Giant Atalkos**

**--**

--

--

Sgt. Auger's voice roared over the din of training grounds. _**"Fire!"**_

A bolt of green light streaked over the plains, lanced into the mud and burst upwards in a fireball of trapped gases.

"_**Fire two!"**_

Another explosion, this time more on target.

"Run now, Decepticon! Run like Prime himself is on your tail!"

The green robot took off at a sprint. The rotary units in her core whirred at high speeds, stabilizing and unifying the energies burning away in her hammering spark. She dashed between concrete barriers, squeezing shots off at targets in the distance before rolling and sliding in behind more obstacles.

There was nothing else for it; she felt young again. This was energy like she hadn't felt since she was a very small protoform.

Auger's voice buzzed in her ear. _"Pick up the pace! You will be at that next station in five minutes, do you understand?!"_

Her legs pistoned under her. The mud had turned to hard tarmac, a long back road leading to Station Bravo. It was ages away, and the destination of their last run. This time, though, her power remained constant. This was glorious.

_Coming right up._

"_This is Rotary, requesting authorization for vehicle mode."_

She could practically hear the gears grinding in the Sergeant's head. This would be good.

"_No alternate modes on my training course, maggot!"_

The Doctor cut in over the same frequency. _"Zargent, zis is a test of ze rotary unit. Vehicle mode authorized."_

"_Doctor, this is MY training course and I say NO alternate modes! Rotary, try it and I will have you back in that lab on a stretcher!"_

The Doctor replied. _"Do it. It vill test your energy readings und ze modifications we made to your chassis."_

She hesitated, still running on foot.

"_Do it. Zargent Nasty vill never hit you."_

"_This is Rotary. Going ahead with vehicle mode."_

_I've never had the energy to do this before. I hope I won't screw it up._

The robot dove forward, parts already clicking into place in midair. She landed upon four rubberized wheels upon the asphalt as a pair of fenders swung around from her shoulders, locking themselves around her front wheels.

_So far, so good. _

"_Slag it, maggot, I told you specifically NOT to enter vehicle mode!"_

A pair of missiles were already streaking through the air a mile back, and they were closing fast.

_Uh oh_.

Her drivers dug in and launched her forward as her vehicle panels clicked into position. She wasn't finished arranging everything yet – she hadn't yet figured out which components went where.

The rockets were closing fast, aimed to blast her off the road.

Finally, the last components ratcheted themselves into place as she accelerated. As befitting her new upgrades, Rotary's alternate mode was a low-slung vehicle, dark green all over, with bulging fenders and an arched roofline. It was classic Cybertronian scout altmode – small, light weight and agile.

_Slag, this is fast!_

Rotary's wheels bit in, and she took off tearing down the tarmac. The stars above reflected off her green panels, as did the lights of the missiles. Their rate of gain had slowed, but it hadn't stopped. Station Bravo was approaching fast, and in another minute or two she'd be there. The Sergeant's missiles would blow her off the road in half that time, perhaps minutely later if she really pushed it.

The tarmac under her roared by faster and faster as she pushed her upgraded spark for more power and more energy. The rotary units were working well, whirring away rapidly to manage the power, burning Energon away at an alarming pace. Rotary didn't care. She didn't care if the missiles hit at this point – the sensation of speed was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. There was no comparison to the limited times she'd puttered along as a protoform – this was real, and this was raw. The bite of the wheels into the tarmac, the way her chassis just hung on in the turns, it was perfect.

Station Bravo loomed on the next hill, a nondescript bunker used alternately for prison work detail and military training on this muddy rock of a moon. Already, though, the missiles were right on her tail, and she had perhaps five seconds. Over the comm, the Sergeant was arguing with the Doctor.

Rotary ignored both of them and gave herself one last burst of acceleration. Knowing she'd never make it to Station Bravo, she threw a new plan into motion.

A series of girders and plates along her right side transformed back into her right arm. She stuck the hand out and slammed her fist into the soft mud alongside the tarmac.

_Whump! _went a plume of mud as the shock sent her into a tumble, transforming all the while. Her legs and feet emerged and ricocheted off the ground into a handspring. She converted the handspring into a roll and drove her still-spinning drive wheels, now swinging around her ankles, straight into the mud.

The drive wheels bit in and kicked up a massive rooster tail of mud, releasing trapped gases and a spray of vapor. Through all this she fired her newly-issued cannon, its green rounds lancing through the blast of mud and debris.

_**BLAM**_**. **

The trapped gases ignited, and a truly massive cone of fire consumed the rooster-tail spray of mud. It was a glorious sight, and her adrenal circuits kicked in, riding the rush of the action to play it all out to her in slow-motion. The fire crawled out along the blast, sending up pockets of superheated gases still trapped inside the tholin mud. Mixed in were the twin explosions of the missiles, consumed by the wake of fire, their conical blasts sending vortices through the flames to punch up the fresh mud.

Rotary spun through the air, transforming back into vehicle mode as she went, landing back on the tarmac in a sort of halfway configuration with half her torso and an arm outstretched for balance emerging from the vehicle. A haze of smoke and some small fires foregrounded her form disappearing over the hill, only to reappear a minute later at Station Bravo.

_Rotary here. Mission accomplished, sir._

The Sergeant's comm. cut back in and she knew she was going to get it, but strangely, she didn't care. Perhaps it was the raging adrenal circuit.

But she didn't.

"_Rotary, slag you, that was the damn finest job I've seen in a while. Not enough 'Cons are dumb enough to go into vehicle mode after I tell 'em not to, and fewer still are smart enough to use the slaggin' mud."_

"_You're a damn fine recruit. NOW GET BACK HERE BEFORE I LAUNCH A DOZEN. ON THE DOUBLE!"_

Rotary just grinned.

--

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**Author's note: **Well, this concludes a bit of backstory for one of my OCs, and hopefully opens some plot threads. Hope you all liked it – and even if you didn't, leave me a review anyway as that's how I improve! See you next time!


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